Composition

I admire beautiful compositions across varying mediums and art forms and yet find myself struggling at best to compose anything of my own. I see the image and cannot translate it into form. I hear the music, and again, useless. I feel something driving to escape. I am too much of a picky perfectionist to accept my own amateur attempts, but I know I must choose a path and improve.
Practice
Practice
Practice,
I suppose.

I can speak to animals

There is this moment where we make direct eye contact and I know, in the deepest sense of truly feeling that you know something is real, that they are listening. Then, with a nod, a group nod, and a turn, they follow what I ask. Happening on several occasions I doubt there is no power here. Just the other night the baby turned right around like a good little boy and waddled back up the stairs like I asked him to. This was after we made direct eye contact and he stared at me with his beautiful black eyes and face as I spoke.

The living dead mortician.
undead
undead
undead
undead
Resurrected by the dead he attends to no doubt
it lives
and it wants to kill me
on a rented speedboat in a ski mask.

the blood is thick
the milk is cool
congealed and sick
makes gravy ghoul

If you are your own planet,
let me be your moon.